Justice Lords Unlimited
by Rhodoferax
Summary: Alternate DC Animated Universe. Oliver Queen, once known as Green Arrow, has just completed a prison term for speaking out against the tyranny of the Justice Lords. As soon as he starts rebuilding his life, he is approached by a shadowy organisation looking to change the world order, but can he trust them?
1. Chapter 1

"Oliver Queen, alias Green Arrow. You have been granted parole." Ollie stood firm; there were terms and conditions attached.

"Your continued freedom is granted on the following conditions," continued the parole officer. "One: You are to register with your local police station and check in every Monday and Thursday. Two: You may not possess or handle any weapon. Three: You are not to commit any anonymous or costumed vigilante activities. Four: You may not have controlling interest in any company. And finally and most importantly, you are not to make any statements critical of the Justice Lords. You will be given a weekly government allowance of three hundred dollars until you find work. Do you understand?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Then sign here." Ollie scribed his signature, the one that had once approved million-dollar agreements, on the two copies of his bail conditions. The officer rose and shook his hand. Weak grip. "Next!" he called, as Ollie walked out the door, sports bag in hand, to what passed for freedom these days.

A minibus was waiting outside. Ollie climbed aboard and sat down in front of a red-haired guy in his mid-thirties. Ollie vaguely recognised him from a couple of propaganda lessons, but had never spoken to him.

"Hey," the guy said after a few minutes.

"Hi."

"I'm Jay. Jay Garrick."

"Ollie Queen."

"So, what were you in for Ollie?"

"Speaking out against the Justice Lords. You hear about that march in Coast City four years ago? I helped organise that. Gave me five years, but I got a year off when I helped out during the Thanagarian invasion."

"Wow, that's serious."

"So how about you, Jay?"

"Oh, nothing so impressive. I just got two years for distributing banned literature."

"Oh yeah? Like what? Plato's _Republic_, _Émile_...?"

"_Justice Guild of America_."

Ollie turned around in his seat. "Wait, seriously? They locked you up for giving out old _comics_?!"

"Yup. I wasn't even trying to start anything, I just thought my postgrads might like to see the comics my dad read with me when I was a kid. Turns out that particular brand of heroism can lead to revolutionary ideas."

Ollie sat back in his seat and laughed bitterly. So this was what the world had come to. Superman had declared it illegal even to read comics from the 50s.

* * *

The bus left him in the city centre, Jay's address in his pocket. Ollie agreed seven tomorrow for a drink, and the two parted ways.

Even if the Justice Lords hadn't seized his house along with his assets, Ollie would have had to sell it anyway, as his new income was nowhere near enough to maintain such a dwelling. Fortunately, he'd managed to secure an apartment near the city centre a couple of weeks before his parole was finalised. It was small, but clean and came with some basic furniture, which was good for only a hundred and fifty dollars a week.

The first thing he noticed when he walked into the building was that the junk mailers had wasted no time in targeting him. His mailbox already had five envelopes in it promising discount pizzas, that he might have won a million dollars... and there was one addressed to him by name, handwritten, in a plain envelope. He tossed the rest and took that one up to his new home.

The letter appeared to be from the residents' association, welcoming him to the building. Someone had written it on a typewriter, and that person was evidently a poor speller.

_Dear Mr. Queen, _

_It is my great pleasure to welcome you to you're new aportment. Here at Bluestone Towers, we enjoy our peace and quiet, so if you like to party, please show consideration to the other residents and keep the noise down. Hopefully this won't be a problem, and if you yourself are buged by anyone, please do not hesitate to contact me. _

_Water, heat and electricity are included in your rent. There is a laundry room on every odd-numbered floor; you are free to use any one you like, but do be aware there may be people ahead of you. A wash costs $4, and a dryer is another $3. _

_As well as yourself, we have received several other new residents recently. As such, there will be an informal get-together on Friday evening in the foyer where you will be able to mete your new neighbors. I hope you can have a chat with mee then! _

_If you need food or other supplies, there is a convenience store on Clarense Street which is open from sics every day, and a supermarket on Eagle Streat which opens from 8 to 8 (twevle hours a day) except Sunday. _

_Garbage day is Thursday - I don't anticipate you'll have much to throw away tommorow, but in future, be sure to separate your recyclable and non-recyclable rubbish. As Wonder Woman says, we have to keep the planet clean! _

_Regards, _

_ Joe Anderson, building superintendent _

_ Apt. 001, ext. 001_

This Joe seemed... wait. Something was off. He misused the word 'you're' at the start of the letter, but had it right later on. It couldn't be... could it?

Ollie looked again at the misspelled words. "you're aportment buged mete mee sics Clarense Streat twevle tommorow". It was the same code he'd used when the Justice Lords had begun cracking down on unauthorised gatherings - using misspellings to conceal hidden messages. Was it someone he had worked with come to bring him into some new movement? Or perhaps an agent of the Lords themselves, trying to test him.

Either way, it was worth checking out. All he had to do was be non-committal until he could discern this person's intentions.

* * *

Six Clarence Street had once been an Internet café, but there was now a faded 'For Rent' sign in the window. A bus shelter gave Ollie some relief from the drizzle that had been going since last night.

A few minutes after he waved a bus along, a slightly beat-up sedan pulled up alongside him. Inside were two men. The driver was wearing a navy suit, blue trenchcoat, gloves, and fedora, but the most noticeable thing about him was his face - specifically, the fact that he didn't have one. Where there should have been eyes, nose, and a mouth, there was just a blank expanse of skin.

The other was a normal-looking man in a dark grey suit. He was well-built and had a strong, chiselled face. He held himself very still and had very alert, piercing eyes. Probably ex-military.

"Green Arrow?" asked the faceless man somehow, in spite of not having a mouth.

"Not any more. I'm just Oliver Queen now."

"Hop in. We'd like to talk to you," said the soldier. Ollie opened the back door and sat down. What else was there to do?

"Mind telling me who you are?" he asked when faceless man set off again.

"Name's Flag. Colonel Flag," said the soldier. Ollie's guess had been right, but still...

"Colonel Flag? Seriously?"

"That's right. It's a good name for a patriot, don't you think?"

"Hmm. And what about you, man with no face?"

"I'm known as the Question. Tell me, what do you think of the Justice Lords?"

"They're certainly keeping crime down," said Ollie carefully.

"How does it feel to be out of prison?" asked Flag.

"I like eating real food again. Went to a Burger Fool last night, and compared to prison food, it tasted like finely-matured Kobe beef. Also, I have a new appreciation for normal clothes."

"You follow the news while you were inside?"

"Sure did. Civil war in Kasnia, EU at loggerheads with the Justice Lords over super soldier programmes, senate subcommittee investigating possible shadowy government operations, Lords forcibly registering metahumans and vigilantes the world over... world's been even more of a mess ever since we beat the Thanagarians."

"You hear any modern pop music while you were doing time?" asked the Question

"You mean the stuff praising the Justice Lords? I think the kids who make that need some practice with the technical aspects."

The Question pressed a couple of buttons on the dashboard. The locks went down while a glass screen went up between the front and back seats.

"Hey, what is this?!" demanded Ollie, banging on the glass. "What the heck are you doing?" But it was too late. He already felt sleepy, and after a few seconds, consciousness faded completely.


	2. Chapter 2

Head throbbing. Eyes opened – they hurt. No pain. Lots of nausea. Can't see. All white. No. Colour. Fluorescent light. Stacks of boxes. A back room somewhere?

Ollie rolled on his side and put a hand to his head. The Question must have pumped some sort of knockout gas into the back of the car.

Yes, that was it, the Question, and his buddy, Col. Flag. What had they done? Where were they.

"Well that was quick," came a familiar voice. Ollie rolled around to find the source of the sound.

There, between him and the door, sat Roy, his old sidekick, flanked by Flag and the Question. Ollie scuttled back and tried to stand up, but the gas hadn't quite worn off and he just slumped against a stack of boxes.

"Roy, what's going on here?"

"Q had to knock you out so you wouldn't know where we're meeting, just in case." Roy picked up the brewer from the table in front of him and poured four cups of coffee. The smell was enticing.

"But first things first. Have a cup of coffee – it helps kick the effects of the gas," said Roy, picking up a cup and, after adding a little milk, taking a sip.

Ollie narrowed his eyes slightly. "No thanks."

"The man's offering you hospitality," said Flag pointedly, who proceeded to take a slurp out of another cup. "The least you could do is accept a friendly drink." Ollie slowly picked up a cup, added some milk and a sugar cube, and took a careful sip. It didn't taste poisoned. He didn't feel any different. Well, if they were all drinking from the same brewer, he was probably safe.

"So Ollie," said Roy, "do you know what happened to Queen Industries after you were imprisoned?"

"I heard it was seized by the Justice Lords and folded into Wayne Enterprises. I only hope Batman kept up my wage regulations." Ollie noticed that the Question was somehow drinking his coffee through his face, and he thought he could make out the shape of a mouth behind it. A fancy mask, then.

"A lot of good people resigned in protest after you were imprisoned. Some of them are doing quite well."

"Any go to prison?"

"A few, but not for quitting. You can't exactly put someone in jail for leaving their job."

"What for, then?"

"Criticising the Justice Lords, some unauthorised vigilantism." Awkward silence. Ollie took another sip. It was pretty good coffee.

"Any plans now you're a free man?"

"Well, I can't start a new company, and most people won't want somebody who's been in prison, so I guess I have to learn to flip burgers."

"What do you think of the Justice Lords, Mr. Queen?" asked Flag.

"They scare me. I hate them." _What? No! Don't say that!_ "They've become tyrants, the very things they used to fight against." _What's wrong with me? Why am I being so uncautious?_

Roy, Flag, and Question exchanged glances. "Oliver," said the Question, setting his half-empty mug down on the table. "The coffee is laced with a truth serum. For about the next half hour, each of us is only capable of saying what he means. And if you try to say something technically true but misleading, you'll find that impossible."

"In that case, you mind telling me what this is all about?"

Flag answered. "We're part of a network of politicians, power-brokers, movers and shakers, metahumans, and black ops mercenaries with one thing in common – we are humanity's last hope against the Justice Lords."

"So what do you intend to do about them?"

"We're building up a a significant amount of arms, personnel, and devices capable of neutralising the Justice Lords. In addition, we know at least some of the Lords are unhappy with the status quo and might be willing to join our side."

"OK. So you build up a force several times greater than the US government of five years ago that can take down the Lords. Then what?"

"We return political power to the rightful government."

"Forgive me for being skeptical, but I don't think that will happen. What's to stop you from simply taking power from the Lords and becoming an even more powerful force for oppression?"

"Our goals..."

"Yes, I know you have good intentions, but throughout history, those with good intentions all too often become the worst oppressors of all, because they can't see they've become the tyrants. Look at the Lenin, or Robespierre, or Oliver Cromwell."

"Ollie, Colonel Flag can't lie, remember?" said Roy. "Doesn't that prove we'll give power back to the people?"

"You know very well that someone can say something false if they believe it to be true. You _think_ you'll be the great liberator, but how do you know you won't just replace one Superman with another?"

"Because I swore an oath to protect my country from all threats, foreign _and_ domestic, and I intend to keep it!" shouted Flag.

"Actually, you're right," said Roy. "We are in danger of becoming the new oppressors. That's part of why we need you, Ollie. You're the most liberal guy I know. If anyone will stop us going down the same slippery slope that the Justice Lords did, it'll be you."

The door opened and a woman poked her head in – and what a woman! Lustrous blonde hair cascaded over supple shoulders to frame a high-cheeked face bearing pair of shiny red lips and the bluest, brightest eyes he'd ever seen. Those eyes were so entrancing Ollie almost didn't notice her breasts.

"You guys nearly done in here?" she asked.

"Ten minutes, Dinah," said Roy. "Ollie isn't entirely convinced yet." Dinah gave a slight nod and closed the door.

"Ollie? Ollie? Earth to Ollie!"

"Huh, what?" Ollie realised he'd been staring at the door.

"Oh, uh, well, you know, now I take a moment to consider it, I think I'd like to work with you after all." Roy gave a barely perceptible roll of his eyes.

"So where are we?"

"At the moment, a back room at the Star City library," said Question. "If you need to meet someone here, ask for the Washington Bible at reception. They'll ask if you meant the Jefferson Bible; say you specifically want the Washington one.

"But our next meeting will be somewhere else. In the meantime, you'll want to visit here regularly, because the Justice Lords are tracking you."

"_What?!"_

"That's right. They implanted some sort of chip while you were in prison."

"How do I get it out?"

"You don't. If it doesn't move about at all, the Lords will get suspicious."

Ollie opened his mouth to respond, then closed it again. That was a good point.

"Don't feel bad. Lots of our members have chips like that. As long as no more than a few of the get together at a time, the Lords don't worry."

"So apart from keeping you honest, what do you want me to do?"

"For one thing," said Flag, "we need every body we can get. You're a good fighter, Mr. Queen; that'll be useful soon enough. Furthermore, you have plenty of valuable contacts from when you were a CEO – we'd like you to scope out those people you know who might be able to provide us with material and funding."

"OK, I can do that."

"But be discreet," said Question. "The last thing we want is someone reporting suspicious activity to the Lords."

"In the meantime," said Roy, "here's a list of your former employees who resigned when you were locked up. They'll be a good starting point, and one of them might give you a job. We'll contact you about the next meeting."

"Right. Well, if there's nothing else, I'd best get started then." They rose, and Flag extended his hand. He had a good, strong grip.

"Oliver Queen, welcome to Cadmus."


	3. Chapter 3

"...And now my lady don't hurt me no more!"

The crowd applauded in appreciation.

"Thank ya folks, thank ya very much. I'd love ta stay, but I gotta do another show in Central City in two days and I need ma rest. Thanks a lot, you've been a great audience!" Greg took a final bow and exited stage left, the claps still sounding in his ears.

Ten minutes later, a knock came at the door. "This'd better be important!" called Greg.

The door opened. It was Jeremy, the bouncer this venue had supplied. And behind him was a milquetoast man in a suit and glasses. One who would be utterly unremarkable, but in this day and age, there was no mistaking Clark Kent's face. Not up close.

"Why Superman, long time no see!" said Greg, hurriedly rising to his feet. "Now what brings you all the way down here?"

"Walk with me, Saunders." Greg followed Superman outside. One advantage of performing in rural towns was that venues were often close to wide open spaces where a man could go for an evening stroll. Greg kept his hat on – sure, it was mostly for the crowds, but at this time of year the sun was still high enough to get in his eyes even at eight o'clock. Superman continued. "It's been three years since you last spoke out against the Justice Lords. Tell me, why did you stop."

"Well sir, I'll be honest with ya. At first, I was scared of what you might do. I mean, you locked up Oliver Queen, killed Bi... uh, anyway, I didn't want the same thing to happen to me."

"Only at first?"

"Well now I'd be lyin' if I said that still weren't a concern, but after I saw you beat off the Thanagarians, or when you put down that thing in Kasnia last year, I thought maybe the Justice Lords might just be the heroes we need."

"That's an attitude I like to hear. It's just a shame more people can't see it our way. Tell me, do you miss being Vigilante?"

"Often."

"You know, there are a lot of people who don't like what we're doing. They call us usurpurs, tyrants, even terrorists, as if we weren't responsible for eliminating all terrorism. And even with our resources, we can't be everywhere at once."

"So what's that got to do with me?"

"We need more people, Saunders. I'm prepared to offer you a chance to join us. If you accept, I'll deactivate your trace chip here and now. We won't be tracing all your movements, but rest assured, we will be observing you to see how you act on a longer leash. If we're satisfied after a year, we'll extend a formal invitation and you can become a superhero again."

"And if I don't satisfy ya?"

"Lobotomy."

"What if I refuse this offer?"

"Then nothing happens. You live out your life singing inoffensive country songs while we know every place you happen to visit."

"Well sir, when ya put it like that, how can I refuse?"

"Good. Show me your right shoulder." Greg rolled up his sleeve. Superman looked intensely at it, probably using his X-ray vision. Then, all of a sudden, an intense burst of heat and pain flashed through his shoulder, and he smelled burning flesh.

"OW! JEEZ! A little hard, don'tcha think?"

"It's the fastest and easiest way to disable one of those things."

"So it's really off then?"

"Don't you trust me?"

Greg knew better than to answer. Instead he just asked, "So now what?"

"Do as you wish. We'll be in touch." Superman looked like he was about to fly off when the air in front of the two started to shimmer. They stood, watching wearily, as the shimmering coalesced into what looked like a vertical line of white, shining light, about two metres tall. The light expanded into a rectangle seemingly standing on its own upon the trail.

After a few seconds, a white horse poked its head through. The head was quickly followed by the rest of the horse which, to Greg's amazement, had a pair of winds. Riding on the horses's back was a medieval knight in a red tunic over a golden suit of chainmail.

The knight spoke. "Greetings, good men. I am Sir Justin, the Shining Knight of Camelot, and I seek the so-called Lords of Justice who in this time have placed themselves over the kings of the Earth."

"I'm one of the Justice Lords," said Superman. "What do you want?"

Justin drew his sword and pointed it at Superman. "I am here to slay you and free the people of this time from your tyranny!"

"Woah, woah, partner," began Greg. "I don't think you realise..." But before he could finish, Superman punched Justin in the chest so hard he flew off his horse and landed several metres away.

To Greg's surprise, Justin didn't seem to be harmed. Slowly, he started raising himself to his feet.

If Superman was perturbed, he didn't show it. He calmly removed his glasses, then pulled open and removed his shirt and blazer in one fluid motion. Finally, he opened his belt and dropped his pants.

Now standing in his iconic black and white spandex, Superman took Justin's chin in his hand. "Let me explain something, _sir_ Justin," he said in a tense but calm voice. "The Justice Lords are no tyrants. We saved the world from those who would have destroyed it. If it weren't for us HURRK! What? How did?" Superman staggered back, and Greg could see a large wound in his belly. Justin's sword was dripping with blood.

Superman's face contorted in rage. His eyes glowed a red that was the last thing seen by God knew how many criminals. Lasers shot from them, right into Justin's helmet. The beams... did nothing. Evidently becoming more frustrated, Superman punched Justin again, this time in the neck; Justin flew back, and his sword landed off to the side.

Once again, Justin tried to get up, but this time Superman was quick. He placed his foot on Justin's chest and barked "Stay down!" He continued, "Now I don't know how you were able..." Greg decided to take a chance. With Superman busy proclaiming his importance to Justin, Greg was able to creep around and grab the sword. Sneaking up behind Superman, he raised it above him, and stabbed it into Superman's back.

"...I used to believe people were AAAAAAGHGHGHG!" And with that, Superman collapsed, half on top of Justin.

"C'mon, partner," urged Greg, pulling Justing out from under Superman. "I don't think that'll keep him down for long."

"No. I must slay him now."

"You saw what he's capable of. Now this here sword of yours is mighty deadly, but even you can't defeat Superman on yer own, and that's assuming his buddies don't show up to help him. We gotta _move_!" Justin hesitated for a moment, then put two gauntleted fingers to his mouth and whistled.

His horse descended from their air above, where it had evidently flown in the confusion, and tucked in its wings. Justing alighted, then extended a hand to Greg. Greg hopped up behind him, and Justin drove his heels into the horse's flanks. The horse extended its wings once again and took flight. Greg looked back, and saw Superman was already getting back up.

"This is Superman. Need backup. Two fugitives fleeing my location. Be on the lookout for a knight and a cowboy riding a pegasus. Yes, that's what I said!"


End file.
